


Look How Far We've Come

by Replica_of_Divinity



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Replica_of_Divinity/pseuds/Replica_of_Divinity
Summary: It's funny how things change with time. Funny how lost you can get, thinking things were always going to be the way they were....until they weren't anymore.





	Look How Far We've Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for my friend on Tumblr thatswhyhesprime who asked me to take on the challenge of writing something fluffy for these two emotionally constipated old men. I hope my attempt is enjoyable ;v;

Wheeljack took a moment in the empty hallway to fluff up his plating and settle his field.

Anyone who says adjusting to post war life is easy is up to their actuators in scrap and they deserve a solid punch in the jaw.

There was only one thing keeping him on this planet, and he’d rather be damned than admit to what that thing was.

…

At least out loud. He could admit it in his head begrudgingly.

He opened the door to his shared apartment and stood there looking around the space as the door slid shut behind him.

Magnus had rearranged the furniture.

**_Again._ **

He rolled his optics and moved to the berthroom and the attached washroom. He spotted the furniture moving fiend out on the balcony, but only really spared the larger bot a glance before moving into the washroom to clean the day’s grime from his gears. Normally he’d only clean out the areas where it mattered, because well, they were the only areas that mattered. However Magnus often got agitated if he did a half assed job on his plating, of course he swears up and down its only because he thinks Wheeljack should try harder to look presentable, but they both know it’s just because Magnus personally prefers him completely clean.

Every day Magnus spends as a civilian he gets weirder. And that had been his choice too, didn’t want to stay a military mech. Though to Wheeljack it seemed like Magnus was painfully lost without the job. He did office work now, desk slag, paper work and reports and filing. And Wheeljack swears that doing that kind of work adds to the weirdness.

He finished washing, buffed, and stepped back into the berthroom, only to find that Magnus had not moved. Wheeljack was efficient at washing up but he wasn’t so efficient that it didn’t still take a half hour to do it. He raised an optical ridge and made his way to the glass sliding doors; reinforced glass of course, neither of them would have settled for the place if the glass had been weak.

Out on the balcony there was a faint breeze and the air was warm. The sky was alight with the burning embers of sunset; the city below was a dull white noise considering how high up they were.

Wheeljack moved to stand beside Magnus and glanced at the taller mech, whose optics seemed distant, as if he wasn’t really looking at the beautiful scenery in front of him.

“How long you been standin out here Mags?” he questioned, making sure to poke the bear, as really he was the only one who could even mildly get away with it.

“These are things I never thought I would get to have.” Magnus spoke softly, wistfully.

Wheeljack blinked, his use of ‘Mags’ being completely glossed over; He turned to fully regard the mech beside him.

“I never thought I would have a home,” He paused and turned to lock optics with Wheeljack, “…Or someone to come home to.”

Wheeljack’s field bristled in discomfort, this wasn’t his forte, “You’re getting soft in your old age Mags.” He turned to look out over the balcony again, because deflecting was the only way he could deal. He didn’t do soft, it made him feel vulnerable in ways he wasn’t ready to feel.

Not yet anyway.

_“Wheeljack.”_

Oh, that’s his stern voice, finally something more commonplace.

“We are _the same age._ ”

Wheeljack smirked, but didn’t turn to regard Magnus, “Yeah and we’re both fragging old. And the fact that we’re the same age doesn’t change the fact that you get weirder every day.”

“Must you use profanity in every sentence that leaves your mouth?” Magnus questioned tiredly.

“No of course not.” He paused for dramatic effect, “I only swore in one of those sentences.”

Magnus did not dignify that with a response and instead huffed in defeat and reached over to pinch Wheeljack’s closest finial. He winced but smiled through the pain, it was worth it.

They stood there in silence for a moment and Wheeljack took that moment to feel stupidly guilty even though he knew he had no reason to. Magnus very rarely opened up like that, and they had an understanding that he didn’t really expect anything from Wheeljack, and yet….

“I was thinking about getting my finials rewired. So they’ll light up like they used to. It’s not exactly a hazard anymore so I don’t see any reason to keep them this way.” Wheeljack admitted suddenly.

The explanation of ‘so you can tell how I’m feeling without me having to say it’ went unspoken, but was understood regardless.

“Thank you.” was all Magnus said.

Wheeljack didn’t respond, but he did pause to glance at Magnus. And then he looped his arm round Magnus’s, over the railing, and laced their digits.

“Maybe the old age is making me soft too.” He admitted quietly.


End file.
